


you have the right to a cattaccino

by athletiger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Animals, Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24296590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/athletiger/pseuds/athletiger
Summary: Steve is a retired cop who catches a twink stealing someone's wallet in the train.Of course, that twink is Tony, and he's stealing his own wallet back, thank you very much.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 45
Kudos: 332





	you have the right to a cattaccino

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TanakaYuuko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TanakaYuuko/gifts).



> For my dear Tanakalove, who prompted this: _Steve is a retired cop that catches this little twink stealing someone's wallet in the train. He doesn't give the twink to the coos bur takes him back to the library/shop he's working in to cover a shift that was vacated last minute. This twink is of course Tony_.
> 
> Then I added a few plot twists, some crackiness, all fluff no angst (surprise surprise!), and here it is.
> 
> Thank you to starksnack, BladeoftheNebula, thirstinart for cheerreading this fic! I really couldn't have done this without you guys. And also, thank you to downeyhills for beta-ing despite you taking two days (it's okaaaaaay lmao).

Even though he was long retired from the cop life, Steve can’t help but keep looking up.

While everyone else’s heads are down, avoiding all eye contact and generally keeping to themselves, Steve can’t stop himself from keeping up his training from the force. 

So he notices things, like the boy who’s not even five feet away from him attempting to steal an unsuspecting passenger’s wallet. He isn’t even subtle, his fingers brushing against the man’s coat and lifting the wallet straight from the pocket. Of course, while it isn’t his job anymore to catch pickpockets, he can’t sit idly by either. When he notices, he just... _ has _ to take care of it. He’s always hated bullies after all. So with a disappointed sigh, he gets to his feet.

Steve’s glad that his reflexes are still sharp when his hand shoots out to grab the boy’s wrist as the thief slips away. The boy jumps up in surprise, clearly unexpecting a stitch in his otherwise clean getaway, and he tugs unsuccessfully against the hold. Steve tightens his grip. “Son,” he says with his most disappointed voice, “just don’t.”

When the boy finally realizes that he can’t get out of his hold easily, he stops struggling and turns around fully. Although Steve’s unimpressed at the boy checking him out, he can’t stop his cheeks from burning slightly. “Okay, first, you’re really not that much older than me. Don’t make yourself sound so old. Second, I didn’t do anything wrong!” he protests, glaring back at Steve. “I was just—”

“—stealing someone’s wallet. I saw the slip,” Steve said. He chooses to address the stealing because it’s more in his wheelhouse; the flirting isn’t. The boy’s cute, that’s for sure, but he’s also a  _ pickpocket. _ “You think I wouldn’t notice?”

“Most people don’t,” the boy shoots back. It’s true; already people are pretending to not notice their confrontation, but Steve is also completely sure that they’re listening to every word they say over the loud screeches of the subway. “And anyway, it was  _ my _ wallet that I was stealing back, thank you very much. I don’t  _ need _ to steal anyone else’s. Don’t you know who I am?”

Steve in fact has no idea who the boy is, but he also isn’t impressed by the way the boy’s straightening his back, trying to make himself seem taller than he actually is. “Cute,” Steve snorts. He’s still a good head taller than him. “If it really is your wallet, then you can show me some identification. So, ID please.”

“What are you, a cop or something?” the other boy grumbles. He reluctantly pulls out his wallet from the back of his jeans pocket. Steve notices that the clip the boy holds in his hand looks expensive and clean. It seems way out of place here in the gritty subway. 

Steve has his free hand outstretched in expectation. “Or something,” he agrees blandly, and with a heaving sigh, the boy places his ID in Steve’s expectant palm.

“Tony Stark,” Steve reads aloud. It’s beginning to dawn on him, the expensive wallet, the cocky way he holds himself, the clothing choices…”You aren’t the Stark heir, are you?”

“With the way that my face is plastered all over the tabloids, I’m surprised you  _ don’t _ know me,” Tony replies, rolling his eyes. Well now Steve feels mildly stupid. Although in his defense, Tony is very much a distraction, with his cocky look that looks way too good on him, his bright honey-brown eyes looking back at Steve, and the warmth of his hand in Steve’s palm. “Can I have my license back now?”

Steve shakes his head. “Even if the newspapers didn’t post your age at least once a month, I know that this ID is fake.”

Tony glares at Steve, but he wisely says nothing. Steve fights a grin from overtaking his face; Tony looks more like a pouting puppy than an angry New Yorker. “I was a cop,” Steve explains simply. He can tell these things. It also doesn’t hurt that Tony’s age isn’t a secret at all.

Tony groans. “Just great. So what now? You gonna arrest me? You aren’t a cop. Just an ex-cop who likes to harass twenty-year-olds for pickpocketing their own wallet back.”

“I mean, I could take you to my old precinct,” Steve says. “You do realize that owning a fake ID is a felony punishable up to seven years in prison, and let’s not even mention the pickpocketing.”

“I told you, I was stealing my wallet back!” Tony huffs, and this time Steve can’t stop the grin. Tony looks ridiculous, and it’s hard not to take him seriously. 

“You’d be eaten alive if you go to prison,” Steve muses.

“I have lawyers, I won’t even reach the courtroom,” Tony scoffs.

Steve nods in agreement. “You’re right. We’d be wasting time and money, and only your lawyers would be happy about that. I have a better idea: I’m short handed at my cafe after my last barista quit. Take over the shift while I find a replacement, and I’ll forget this ever happened.”

“You’re blackmailing me to take over a shift at your cafe,” Tony says flatly.

“Or we can go to the precinct,” Steve says. “Up to you.”

Tony is silent for a moment, and the subway screeches to a stop. The doors open, and people pour into the car. They flow around the two as if Steve and Tony are in their own little bubble, and it suits Steve just fine. The doors close, and the subway begins to move again. “Fine,” Tony says finally. “Can I have my arm back now?”

Steve lets go, and Tony quickly draws his hand towards himself. “And my ID too?”

“No, I think I’ll keep this,” Steve says, turning the ID in his hand. He reaches behind to slip it into his back pocket.

Then he freezes. 

Steve pales as his fingers slip deeper into the pocket. “My wallet!” he breathes in horror.

“You mean this?” Steve jerks back, wide-eyed, to see Tony waving a wallet in his hand. _ His _ wallet. Numbly, Steve takes it from Tony’s fingers. “I stole it back from the original thief. Saw him pickpocketing you too.”

His heart is still beating fast from the sudden adrenaline that rushed through him, but he can breathe a sigh of relief with the fact that his clip is back in his hands. Everything’s still there too. 

“You’re welcome,” Tony prompts.

“Thank you,” Steve says breathlessly but earnestly. He can’t believe that the boy who he caught stealing stole back  _ his _ wallet. 

“Still can’t expect me to get back my ID, huh,” Tony says, disgruntled. He doesn’t look too torn up about it though when Steve looks back up at him. In fact, Tony has a grin on his face, like he doesn’t mind at all.

And Steve can’t help but match him with a grin of his own. “Nope. Gotta make sure that you do the shift.”

Tony groans again, but Steve can tell that it’s a half-hearted groan.

ㅡ

For all of his talk on the subway, Steve doesn’t expect Tony to actually appear in his cafe. For one, Tony’s a Stark. Steve wasn’t wrong about the lawyers on retainer, and there’s no way Tony would ever set foot in a courtroom for a misdemeanor or a felony. Compared to Steve, Tony’s practically untouchable.

For two, which is arguably more important, Steve had actually forgotten to tell Tony the name of his coffeeshop, and the reason for it is completely embarrassing: he was too busy staring at Tony’s doe eyes and the coy smile on his face and the way his tongue darted between his lips to remember to give him any information. Now that he can function at a higher level again, all he can remember is the softness of his skin pressed against his palm, the frantic pace of his pulse beating in Steve’s grip. Steve palms the fake ID, feeling resigned at the fact that he’ll probably never see Tony Stark in person again.

It’s the morning shift, and weary-eyed businessmen are beginning to rush in with their desperate need for coffee. Steve hates this shift the most; it’s hard dealing with cranky, sleep-deprived people, and he’s sure that they hate him too until the coffee hits. While he desperately wants to flee into the kitchen, his and Bucky’s cafe is down an employee, and until he finds a replacement, he’s out in the front plastering a fake smile to his face. Natasha’s with him, but between her and him, he’s the better option for dealing with cranky customers.

They really don’t want a repeat of what happened last time. Steve’s embarrassed that Fury himself showed up to his cafe after the incident with the knives.

He owes his old precinct so much coffee, and they’re definitely milking that for all it’s worth.

Bucky’s always so much better at dealing with them, but he’s on call at the fire station for the next few days. So with a sigh, he takes the order of yet another tall coffee with twelve extra shots and places it on the counter for Natasha to fill.

“Looks like you could use a hand.”

Steve whips his head to the side, cutting off his latest customer’s order midword. Tony’s leaning against the glass class with his arms crossed over his chest, and he’s smirking. “Good thing I have two.”

“Oh thank god,” Steve breathes. “Please take over.”

“That’s what you blackmailed—” Tony coughs, “—ahem, excuse me,  _ hired _ me for, didn’t you?” Tony grins and straightens. Already he’s acting like he’s one of them, stepping confidently towards the cash register and saying to the disgruntled customer, “Sorry for the interruption, what can I get you?”

Tony takes to his job like water, so smoothly and so skilled, and somehow he even leaves their customers happier before their order is even ready. Steve’s impressed. But more than that, Steve can’t help but stare at the way Tony’s fingers—in fact his whole body—dance to a silent tune. Tony’s a natural at this.

Steve catches Natasha looking back at him with a knowing glance and a small smirk, and Steve ducks his head in embarrassment for being caught. He’s supposed to be in the kitchen baking pastries; their display case is running low, but he just can’t help himself. Nat huffs out an amused sigh before turning back to the long line of coffee cups for their coffee-addicted customers, but she gives him a blind shooing motion to get back into the kitchen and do what he actually needs to do. 

He walks away after taking one last look at the fluid form of Tony’s body.

It takes a while, but Steve gets into the groove of things: preheating the oven, chopping up chocolate into small pieces, pulling out his chilled pastry dough from the fridge, rolling it into a huge sheet, and folding it into thirds. He has a love-hate relationship with puff pastry, but to see their customers’ delight when biting into his croissants and his tarts and his famous breakfast pizzas makes the long wait all worth it.

He’s making pain au chocolat now. Steve cuts the dough into strips with the pizza cutter and places chocolate onto one end of each strip. With a smooth motion, he rolls them up and places them onto the cookie sheet. He is so distracted by doing what he loves most that he misses the kitchen door opening, but he absolutely does not miss what Natasha’s saying when she stands across from him.

“How did you get Tony Stark to man our cashier?” she asks.

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Long story. Don’t you have customers to attend to?”

“I’m on break,” she says dismissively. “Breakfast rush is over, and Tony’s better than I am at the coffee machine, so I’m just letting him take over.”

“Tony’s supposed to be a temp, not a hire,” Steve huffs exasperatedly, placing the pain au chocolat into the oven and setting the timer. With the croissants in the oven, he turns to clean up his workstation, anything to avoid the resulting conversation that he knows Natasha will wheedle out of him.

But she’s already wiping down the counter for him. “You’re avoiding the question,” Natasha accuses him.

Steve knows he can’t win against Natasha, especially when her mind is set. He settles on, “I caught Tony pickpocketing and then he gave me his fake ID.”

Natasha gives him a flat look. “You’re not a cop. It isn’t your job anymore.”

“No,” Steve agrees.

“You know it’s tradition to ask him out, not...do whatever you did to blackmail him to man our cashier.”

Steve blushes and ducks his head. “It’s not like that! I was just telling him that he could either take over a shift temporarily or go to the station.”

“Uh huh,” Natasha says, looking at him with an unimpressed stare. She perches delicately on top of the metal counter, ignoring the pained look that Steve’s sure he has on his face. They’re supposed to put only food on the counter!

“Natasha,” Steve says helplessly. “He’s  _ Tony Stark. _ He’s way out of my league. Besides, I’m trying to save him from himself. He shouldn’t have a fake ID anyway.”

“Uh huh,” Natasha says again. This time she has a smirk on her face. He just knows that he’s never gonna live this down. She slides off the counter and heads back towards the front. “Feed him one of your pain au chocolat when you’re done hiding in here. I saw him eying the display case.”

“He’s not gonna sell himself out for pain au chocolat!” Steve says at her back. By now, the scent of buttery croissants is filling the kitchen. Natasha snorts, walking out the door with the scent following her out. 

A helpless grin overtakes Steve’s face when the door shuts behind her, but he knows that Tony would never go for a guy like him. He’s cute, smart,  _ rich. _ He’s also surely some no-good, rule-breaking punk, with that fake ID that he had on him, and Steve’s an injured ex-cop who co-owns a small cafe. They’re worlds apart.

As the pain au chocolats finish baking, Steve preps some almond flour. He hates making macarons - they were too fussy for his tastes, but their customers always complain if there are none in the display case. It's with grudging acceptance that he continues to bake said fussy desserts. 

He’s just sifting almond flour when the timer goes off, so Steve leaves the flour on the counter as he rushes over to grab out the finished desserts. He pulls out the pain au chocolats from the oven, and like usual, he can’t help but salivate over the wonderful smell of freshly baked goods. He has to bite his lip to stop himself from stealing one, forcing himself to take the tray out to the front instead.

The cafe is still populated with people, and as the scent of the croissants wafts throughout the space, they look up and are delighted to see him putting the pain au chocolats in the display case. Steve knows that they’ll be gone within the hour. They always are. As he straightens, he looks towards Tony inadvertently, who’s staring back at him with his mouth slightly opened and a light blush dusting his cheeks.

“Oh my god,” Tony says reverently. “Is that pain au chocolat? That’s my favorite! Can you save me one?”

For a moment, Steve’s eyes slide over to Natasha. She’s smirking at him knowingly. Steve wouldn’t put it past her for already figuring things out. To be honest, Steve wouldn’t put it past her either.

“I’ll save you three,” he promises, taking them out of the case and putting them on a small plate. “It’ll be ready when you go on break. Actually, in fact, have you had your break yet?”

Tony shakes his head, and Steve smiles at him. He hands the plate over. “Have a break then. Nat said you’ve been doing wonderfully.”

Tony ducks his head shyly at the praise. “It’s not a problem. Blackmail or not, I know how to deal with people, so it’s not that hard to deal with customers. Besides, I’ve been dealing with them my whole life, so I know a thing or two.”

“Still, I didn’t expect you to come,” Steve says. “We agreed that you’ll never go to court.”

“Yep,” Tony agrees. “But how can I say no to a hot baker who’s one man short?”

It’s Steve’s turn to blush. “Eat your damn croissant,” he says gruffly, trying to get a hold of himself. He sorely regrets saying that a moment later, blushing even harder when Tony takes a bite of his pain au chocolat and moaning like a sex-crazed fiend. His cheeks are hot, too hot. He swears, if Tony makes that noise again, he’s going to combust. He’s so hard in his pants, and he can’t stop staring at the way Tony closes his eyes in pure bliss and the fact that there’s a bit of melted chocolate on his upper lip.

Steve sorely wants to lick it off of him. Kiss him too.

“Oh my god,” Tony breathes when he finally swallows his bite. “This is heaven.  _ So _ delicious. If you keep baking like this, you’re never going to get rid of me. Coffee’s delicious, baked goods are delicious, yeah, sorry buddy, this is my home now.”

Steve swallows. He’s so damned fucked, but he finds that he can’t care less.

ㅡ

Steve finds a new hire in Darcy from the recommendation of Thor, his old partner at the force. A close friend of Thor’s longtime girlfriend and who’s recently graduated and looking for a job, Darcy somehow not only manages the cashier but has also commandeered their books as well. Steve’s terrified at the efficient way she manages their finances and inventory, but he’s also exceedingly glad that he no longer has to do these things. As long as she doesn’t steal from the petty cash box or skim off of the books, Steve is happy enough to let her run things.

While Darcy and Natasha are getting along like a house on fire (he sorely regrets letting them meet each other; they’ll make his life hell), he looks out at the main floor.

As usual, the cafe is bustling with people. Lively chatter fills the ambiance of the room but Steve ignores them all for a certain twenty-year-old who’s sitting on a barstool by the window. His back is towards Steve, and he’s commandeered the entire counter with piles of paper. A plate of a half-eaten madeline and a cup of coffee sits haphazardly on one of the piles, and Steve just can’t stop staring at the way Tony’s hunched over, pen scratching on his notebook.

“You should get him a refill,” Natasha says. It’s only because of lots of training does he not jump up in surprise at the way she approaches him silently. He reluctantly draws his gaze away from Tony to look at Natasha instead, and she’s smirking at him again.

Darcy drapes over Natasha’s shoulder, an action Steve would never expect Natasha would allow.  _ That _ startles him, and Natasha’s smirk grows wider. “Steve has a crush, doesn’t he?” Darcy remarks, looking to the side in the direction where Tony’s sitting.

“No,” Steve mutters, cheeks burning.

“He definitely has a crush,” Darcy says, not even looking at him. Natasha’s nodding in agreement. “I don’t even need to see you to know that you’re so in love. You should go get him, tiger.”

“Don’t call me that,” Steve says sharply, but going by the looks on Darcy and Natasha’s faces, his words don’t have the intended effect. Instead, Darcy simply slides off Natasha’s shoulder to grab a plate and a slice of coffee cake; Natasha moves towards the coffee machine and makes a quick cup of coffee. They shove the plate and mug at him, and it’s clear that they’re not going to take no for an answer.

So with a heavy sigh, Steve takes the plate and mug, ignoring the huge smirks on both their faces in favor of taking them across the cafe floor and placing them on the very small space where there aren’t any papers covering the counter.

“I didn’t order that,” Tony absently says, still scratching away at his paper. Steve takes a quick glance at it - it’s completely incomprehensible, full of equations and scribbles and some diagrams.

“It’s on the house,” Steve replies, and Tony stops writing.

“Blueberry coffee cake?” Tony’s eyes widen. “I love blueberries!" He picks up the cake with his fingers, bypassing the fork altogether, and shoves as much of it into his mouth as possible. Tony looks like a chipmunk, cheeks bulging as he chews, and crumbs fall through his fingers onto the floor. Steve should protest; he’s going to have to clean that all up later, but he’s too distracted by the way Tony’s Adam’s apple is bobbing up and down as he swallows.  _ “Delicious.” _

Steve’s so gone on the boy, never mind the fact that they’re so different as they come: Tony is a delinquent, and Steve’s been a cop, so he really shouldn’t fall for him.

He can’t help it, though, when Tony looks at him with sultry eyes that sends his body into hyperdrive. “You’ve got a—” Steve reaches out unthinkingly, brushing away a crumb on his lip. He’s embarrassed when his mind finally catches up to him, and he hurriedly pulls his hand back.

But Tony catches his wrist first and turns his head to lick the crumb off. 

Steve’s going to spontaneously combust. He’s sure he’s redder than Bucky’s fire engine, and he’s so hard in his pants that he can probably pound nails. He can’t breathe; it’s much too hot in the cafe now.

“Mmm,” Tony breathes. “You taste just as delicious.”

Never mind the fact that they’re in the middle of Steve’s cafe. Steve tries to reply, but all he manages is an incoherent sound. Tony laughs brightly. “Cat got your tongue? Might wanna sit down before you burst into flames.”

Steve sits, and Tony looks delighted that he does. “I’m working on my thesis, but it’s boring work,” he says wryly, gesturing to the massive amount of paperwork on the table. “I really appreciate the distraction.”

Finally, Steve’s brain is back online as Tony takes a long drag of steaming hot coffee. “I shouldn’t be distracting you,” he says.

“Yet you are, and I can’t be even mad about it because it’s you,” Tony replies. He’s much too smooth, and Steve swears he’s going to the hospital if he keeps this flirting up.

“What are you studying?” Steve manages.

Tony looks down at the papers. “Mechanical engineering,” he replies with glee. “I’m working with a friend in environmental engineering to create tech that will reduce waste that goes into our oceans.” He launches into a detailed explanation about it, and Steve’s lost by the third word. However, he can see the passion that Tony has for it, and it makes him smile to see Tony’s excited flailing.

“We’re planning on cleaning the Hudson first, and then if it works, we want to do the same with the Gulf of Mexico. We’re hoping to repopulate our oceans with wildlife that had been forced away because of our ignorance and carelessness,” Tony finishes. Then he pauses. “You didn’t understand a word of that, didn’t you.”

Steve laughs. “Not the science part,” he admits. “But the fact that you’re using engineering to make the Earth better is really amazing!”

“Thanks.” Tony smiles, and Steve falls in love a little more.

ㅡ

“You need to get laid,” Bucky says. For once he’s not at the fire station; he’s hanging at the cafe instead, hogging up one of the tables in the front of the cafe. He props one leg on an empty chair.

Steve gives him a warning look. “I’m fine. And get your feet off the chair.”

Because Bucky’s a little shit who likes to ignore Steve’s orders, Bucky crosses his other leg on top of the first one. “No really. I’ve heard from Nat of your UST with  _ Tony Stark.” _

Steve groans aloud. “Nat needs to mind her own business.”

“Not when it’s affecting business,” Bucky replies. “I own half the cafe buddy, and if you’re driving away our customers with your flirting, then it becomes my business too. So you need to get laid.”

Thankfully Steve is saved from replying when Tony barges in. His face is gaunt, his hair looks greasy, he has under bags under his eyes.

“Coffee,” he moans, slumping over the counter. “Gimme coffee. I need it.”

“Bad night?” Steve asks, moving to do as he asks. After glancing at him again, Steve pours decaf into a mug. He’s absolutely ignoring the way Bucky’s making faces at him.

“Dummy was moaning all night long,” Tony mutters into the counter. “And when Dummy’s awake, so is You. Couldn’t get a wink of sleep. Couldn’t work through the noise either. Fuck, and I’ve been up the night before because I had a breakthrough.”

“Who?” Steve asks, but his heart begins to fall. He doesn’t know who these Dummy or You are, but they sound like nicknames for...he doesn’t want to contemplate it. Steve places the mug beside Tony’s cheek.

“Oh god, coffee,” Tony moans, grabbing the handle blindly. He drinks the entire mug in one swallow before he hands it back to Steve for more. “Dummy and You, my pets. Dummy’s a basset hound with a brain injury, and You’s a chihuahua with half a face. I love them so much, but god, I wish I could hate them right now.”

“You look like you could use some sleep,” Steve decides. He sets the empty mug on the counter. Steve walks around the counter. 

“God I want to.” Tony yawns, placing his head back on the counter. “I’m supposed to be going to the shelter today. More coffee, please.”

“Not in that condition, you aren’t. You look dead on your feet. I’m sure that you can get a few hours of sleep before you go to the shelter.” Tony shakes his head, but he goes willingly enough when Steve guides him to lean against his shoulder. It’s a huge mistake, but feeling the warmth of Tony’s body emanating by his side, Steve finds that he doesn’t regret it one bit.

“They’ll be expecting me. Also, did you give me decaf?” Tony tries to sound accusatory, but in his sleepy state, he sounds more like a pouting puppy.

“Sorry buddy,” Steve says, but he’s completely unapologetic. Steve leads him to the couch in the back room. “Just get some shut-eye, and maybe I can go with you afterwards.”

Tony hums. “Sounds nice,” he murmurs, closing his eyes.

Steve smiles at the soft look on Tony’s face as he settles. It’s so fascinating to learn so much about Tony Stark in a way that the public doesn’t know. Tony’s as self-assured and cocky as the media portray him as, but he’s also kinder and brighter than anyone could ever know.

Steve closes the door. Bucky’s standing right there in front of him, smirking. “You’re so gone on him.”

“Stop it,” he hisses, pushing Bucky away. Bucky’s unmoved though: even though Steve’s still fit, Bucky’s  _ ripped, _ so it’s like pushing a brick wall. Bucky grins.

“What’s stopping you from tapping that ass?” Bucky asks, following Steve to the kitchen.

“He broke the law!” Steve says, tossing wet dough onto the metal counter.

“Like you don’t break the law?” Bucky asks, unimpressed. He crosses his arms. “If that’s your only excuse, you’re such a dumbass.”

“Fine, you wanna know? He’s rich, he’s famous, he’s a genius, gorgeous, kind, perfect!” Steve punches the dough viciously at every word. “He’s probably only here because I confiscated his fake ID.”

“Ugh, you’re still going on about that fake ID thing, or are you trying to imply that he’s out of your league?” Bucky asks. He uncrosses his arms, moving to brace them on the metal counter across from Steve. “You’re a fucking dumbass if you can’t see that he likes you. He was half-asleep and barely said two words to you, but I can see that he is absolutely gone on you. Seriously, you know as well as I that if he really wanted to, you would have never seen him again besides that time on the subway, and the fact that he’s here, and he’s always here, from what Nat’s been telling me, means that he might like you back.”

“He could be here for the food,” Steve replies mulishly.

Bucky tosses his hands up in despair. “He licked your fingers in public! What more do you want? A neon sign that says ‘I like you, would you date me?’”

Steve slumps, hands stilling in his dough. “I don’t know, Bucky. I’m just...I’m nervous, okay? He’s  _ different, _ and I don’t wanna fuck this up.”

Bucky sobers. He says quietly, “Steve, you’re not going to fuck this up. It’s not like the others. You’re gonna do just fine.”

Bucky gives him an encouraging smile, and Steve decides to give in. “Okay.”

“Go get your guy, Stevie.” Bucky reaches over to pat him on the shoulder. “And make him some pain au chocolat. I heard it was his favorite.”

Steve huffs, but really, it’s not a bad idea. As Bucky leaves and Steve tosses the dough into a bucket to rise, he pulls out his puff pastry dough from the fridge. He chops up dark chocolate, getting back into the groove of baking. He slices the pastry dough, places pieces of dark chocolate onto one end, rolls it up, and places the tray of pan au chocolats in the oven.

Eventually, the aroma of buttered pastry fills the kitchen, and it’s then when Tony stumbles out of the office. His hair is a complete mess, his shirt wrinkled, but Steve can’t help himself but stare. Even a mess, Tony is still hot, and Steve is much too gone on him.

Tony visibly inhales. “Oh my god,” Tony says. “Is that—”

“—pain au chocolat,” Steve confirms. “Give me five, and I’ll have some ready.”

“You’re an angel,” Tony moans happily. Even though Tony hadn’t slept for very long, he looks more put together than he did when he first walked into the cafe. “Coffee?”

“You know where it is.” Steve grins when Tony groans but moves past the door to go make himself a cup.

The timer rings, and Steve pulls the pastries out. He’s mildly surprised that Tony’s gone for so long, but when he opens the door to the front, it becomes clear: Darcy’s monopolized Tony, single handedly chatting to the customers while holding a conversation with Tony. Steve huffs out a laugh and shakes his head when he sees it; his friends are absolutely crazy and talented. He wouldn’t trade them for the world.

Tony turns, and he brightens when he sees Steve with the tray of croissants. “Pain au chocolat!” he sighs, snagging one right off the tray before Steve could warn him. Steve can only watch as Tony yelps. He drops it onto a plate and sucks on his reddened fingers. “Worth the burn.”

“They aren’t going anywhere,” Steve says, shoveling the rest of them in the display case.

“So wrong,” Tony retorts. “They’re gone in an hour. Gotta take it while I can.”

“Alright.” Steve considers Tony as he munches on his pain au chocolat. He really wants to kiss those chocolate-covered lips, but he doesn’t think his customers would appreciate that. So he says instead, “Are you good enough to do your shelter thing?”

“Oh shit, I’m late! I’m definitely blaming you for this,” Tony says around his full mouth. He swallows, downs his coffee with another swallow after that. Then he looks at Steve with a glint in his eye, and Steve has a sense of foreboding washing over him. He doesn’t think that what Tony has in mind is going to go well for him. “You know, because my tardiness is absolutely your fault, maybe you should come with me to the shelter. Don’t think I’d forget your offering earlier.”

Steve startles. He looks past Tony to glance at Natasha who’s been keeping half an eye on him as she’s been making coffee. She nods in encouragement, shooing him with a hand before giving him a thumbs up. Steve takes it as it is: they can take care of the shop for him while he’s gone. He’s mildly worried that the knife incident, part two would happen, but he hopes that Darcy will keep Natasha in line.

It’s a distant hope, he’s sure. But still, Tony’s staring at him, pleading silently, and there’s no way Steve can say no to that face. “I’d love to,” Steve replies. He feels hopeful when Tony grins brilliantly at him.

“Great!” Tony walks past him, leaving Steve to follow him. “You’re going to love and regret this so much.”

Steve walks after him like a lost puppy, but he hopes that he’s going to love this more than he regrets this.

ㅡ

Tony’s right: Steve absolutely loves the shelter.

He also absolutely regrets coming, but probably not in the way Tony’s thinking. 

Steve watches Tony go up to every animal, petting them and cooing at them and picking them up to play with them. It’s absolutely too much for Steve’s heart to take; the sight’s adorable, and Steve had never thought Tony could steal his heart even more.

Tony looks up with a brilliant grin, holding a puppy in his arms. “Aren’t they adorable?”

Steve nods. “You’re adorable,” he says under his breath when Tony turns to put the puppy down.

“What was that?” 

“Nothing,” Steve hurriedly replies, following Tony as he continues walking.

“I adopted Dummy and You here. They were going to be euthanized because they’ve been here for a while and no one wanted them,” Tony says wistfully. He picks up a rat from its cage. The rat squeaks happily. He coos, “Hey sweetheart, how’s my favorite rat today?”

Once “sweetheart” is put back in its cage, Tony says, “Did you know you have to be twenty-one to adopt pets from this shelter?”

Realization begins to dawn on Steve. “So your fake ID,” he says slowly. “It’s…”

Tony nods when Steve trails off. “The animals here are essentially castaways because they’re not perfect. I just want some of them to have a better life because they deserve it.”

“So it’s not for drugs?”

Tony snorts. “I’m rich, but I don't really care for that. I just want to adopt all the pets so they can have a good life. Howard wouldn’t like that very much though, so I settled on Dummy and You.”

They stop in front of a cage with nothing in it. Well, Steve sees nothing at first, but then a little bundle moves slightly. Glowing yellow eyes peek out from the depths of the cage. “Hey Butterfingers,” Tony says softly, crouching down to press his face close to the cage. “I brought a friend with me today. Do you want to meet him?”

Long moments pass as they wait for Butterfingers to decide. This side, the patient side of Tony, is what the media never sees, and Steve’s awed at the way they somehow completely miss the fact that Tony’s here dedicating his time to make these pets’ lives better. He really likes Tony, and he hopes that everything his friends say about Tony liking him back is true.

Tony’s  _ perfect. _

The bundle moves, slowly moving towards Tony outstretched hands. “Hi Butterfingers. How’s my favorite kitten today?”

It mews raspily, nuzzling into Tony’s fingers, and he obligingly gives some scritches the top of its head. He picks it up, and the sight of Tony with the kitten melts Steve’s heart that much more. 

“Oh,” Steve breathes.

The kitten wheezes as it purrs. “Butterfingers was abandoned in a burning building that caught on fire,” Tony explains as it butts its head against Tony’s fingers. “A burning beam fell on her back leg and broke it, and she was stuck under it for too long. They had to amputate it after they couldn’t save her leg from third-degree burns.”

Thing is, Steve remembered that day too. Steve slowly walks towards the pair, but his eyes are trained solely on Butterfingers. “I was forced into mandatory retirement because of a fire,” Steve says. “There was a burning building a year ago, and I was on call with my partner. And I heard cries, but it was hard to hear because the fire was so loud.”

Steve looks at Tony, who’s staring back at him with awe. “There was a kitten, trapped under a wooden beam. I don’t remember much from that night, but I remembered that I saved the kitten.”

“Butterfingers was saved a year ago,” Tony whispers. He looks down at the kitten, before looking up at Steve. “Do you want to hold her?”

Numbly, Steve reaches out to take Butterfingers from Tony. She purrs with her rasping voice, butting her head in his chest. He brings a hand up to stroke her head, and she mews happily, vibrating in his arms. Steve is gone; he already loves Butterfingers so much.

“I was going to adopt her before you took away my fake ID,” Tony says lightly. “But she seems to be quite taken with you.”

“Are you blackmailing me?” Steve asks hoarsely.

Tony laughs. “Maybe. Okay, yeah, I definitely am. You and Butterfingers are too cute.”

“But I never had pets before.” Steve knows it’s a weak excuse though; he knows that he’s going to adopt Butterfingers, the three-legged kitten that he saved a year ago.

“I can show you,” Tony says.

Steve finally looks up at Tony. He’s standing close, very close. “You will?” he asks hopefully.

“Of course.” Tony grins. “I heard you earlier, saying that I’m adorable. You aren’t as subtle as you think.”

Steve’s face burns with embarrassment, but before he can say anything, Tony continues, “You’re adorable too. Wanna date me?” Tony looks hopeful and shy, completely opposite from his usual self-assured demeanor.

Steve ducks his head and smiles. “I’d love that.”

ㅡ

It’s after-hours at Steve’s cafe, and Steve’s wiping down the kitchen counters when he hears a soft mewl through the doors.

“Tony,” he calls out. “You know that pets are not allowed in the cafe. As much as I love Butterfingers, she’s not supposed to be here.”

“Yeah, I know. Just handing her off to Darcy!” Tony yells back, his voice muffled.

“Darcy’s gonna corrupt her!”

“Butterfinger’s already corrupt!” Darcy interjects. “I’m just enabling her so that she can rule your life like all the other women who do already.”

Steve groans and closes his eyes, but he still can’t help the grin that overtakes his face. “Just don’t corrupt her too much.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it boss! You both have fun!”

Steve groans again, but it’s cut off when the kitchen doors open and Tony swaggers in.

Tony’s hot as usual, grinning like the lunatic he is. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey yourself.” Steve rinses the rag and leaves it hanging on the edge of the sink. “Cinnamon roll?”

“Not pain au chocolat this time?” Tony asks with a twinkle in his eye.

Steve huffs. “Yeah, I might have saved some.” And he pulls two croissants from the back of the fridge, placing them in Tony’s eager hands.

“Yay!” Tony stuffs his face with one croissant, and this time, Steve can’t help it anymore. He leans forward and presses his lips against Tony’s. He can taste chocolate and buttered pastry on his lips, and combined with Tony, it’s the most delicious thing Steve’s ever tasted. Tony makes a noise of pleasure, drawing his legs up to straddle Steve’s waist. With the move, it deepens the kiss, and Steve brings his hands up to hold Tony’s thighs.

“You’re going to get me fat with all the pain au chocolats you’ve been feeding me,” Tony says when they finally pull away for air. He doesn’t sound disappointed though.

“Call it a graduation present, Doctor Stark,” Steve replies, hitching him up to the kitchen counter. Steve leans in again, nosing under Tony’s jawline and licking his neck, smiling when he hears Tony’s moans. Pressed against him, Steve can feel Tony’s cock hardening.

“What happened to the no-sex-in-the-kitchen-rule?” Tony asks breathlessly. His hands grab onto Steve’s shoulders. “Is the lawful ex-Officer Rogers breaking the law? What will the city’s health inspector say if they find out that we’re having sex in the kitchen?”

“Shut up,” Steve mutters into his skin. “We’re not going to have sex in the kitchen.”

Tony’s body vibrates with laughter. “We’re absolutely having sex in the kitchen. Come on Steve, it’s my congratulatory present and my birthday present: making Steve Rogers break the rules for once.”

Steve snorts, but he allows Tony to take off his flour-covered wife beater before he attacks Tony’s mouth again. “Your place is gonna be full of rescues now,” Steve mumbles into Tony’s mouth.

“Of course it is.”

And well, saving animals  _ is _ pretty hot, so Steve flips Tony over, pressing him down onto the counter. At least the countertops are stainless steel, so what the health inspector doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

**Author's Note:**

> Tina drew art for this fic! Please check it out [here](https://therollingstonys.tumblr.com/post/618682593747009536/you-have-the-right-to-a-cattaccino-athletiger), like, and reblog!
> 
> I have a [tumblr](https://la-toratempesta.tumblr.com/), but you can find me here at the [Put on the Suit (18+) Discord server](https://discord.gg/z5WSqbS)!


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